Hungry
by NicolettexMarie
Summary: Don't really know how to summarize this one! It's really good, I think, just another version of how Tifa and Cloud end up together. Please read and review! Rated for minor swearing.


**A/N:** I seriously doubted my sanity in posting this, but I couldn't resist. It's just another (quite long) one-shot, another version of how I think Cloud and Tifa would get together (FINALLY) with first-person point of view in both, but I think it's rather good. Enjoy – and _please_ review!!!

**Tifa**

I was never one for expressing my feelings or emotions, really. Which, next to Cloud's avoidance of them altogether, doesn't seem like much of a problem, but it is. The truth of the matter is, I never really learned how. It sounds odd, when you think about it, that a twenty-five year old woman doesn't know how to say what she's thinking or feeling... but I never really learned how because there was no time for that. I didn't have the luxury of letting emotions get in the way of trying to save the planet... didn't have the time to even think about how I felt, let alone figure out how to put it into words. I'm still not the most eloquent person on the planet. Sure, I can talk to people just fine; I'm a barmaid, and that's half the job. But about feelings and emotions...? No. So, that's why I keep telling myself that it's understandable that nobody truly knows me but me. If that makes sense at all. Of course, that little voice everyone has in their head that has this terribly annoying habit of pointing out the obvious and being blatantly honest just won't shut up. It doesn't seem to want my feelings to rest. It's like they're being slowly pushed to the surface... and yes, it's getting harder and harder to hold them back.

I think that it's mostly Cloud's fault, and I'm not saying that to have somebody to blame it on. I am at fault too, of course, because underneath all of the tough exterior, I am just as sensitive and scared as any other woman. But Cloud – always so cold, so emotionless and distant from me – is not exactly a confidence booster whenever I think I might be close to coming clean with him, telling him everything I'm thinking and feeling. I can't.

It's amazing, the lies we tell ourselves, isn't it? We lie out of fear, or because we don't know what else to say... because it's easier than the truth... or because it's easier to lie to ourselves than to admit the reason we are lying. For me, it is the last one. It is so much easier to tell myself that I haven't even tried to tell him yet because I don't know how... than to admit that a memory is all that's holding me back. A memory, of a different time and place – of a different girl – and most importantly, of a different Cloud.

I don't know if he loved her. I don't even know if he was capable of loving her, or if he's capable of loving anything or anyone now. The memory of that girl – of Aerith – I know that is what he thinks about. When he gets a faraway look in his own blue eyes... the blue I rarely even see, hidden behind spiky locks of gold. When he gets that look... somewhere between tortured and serene, between sad and reflecting... I know he thinks about her. And though I hate admitting it, I feel inadequate. She was so lovely and kind, so radiant and a beautiful person on the inside... and I wonder how on Earth I could measure up. I hate comparing myself to her... to a mere memory... but because I don't know if he loved her, and I am not about to ask, I can't help it. I know he cares for me, for Marlene and Denzel, in his own way, because occasionally, he does show it. Sometimes, I'll see him smile at Marlene when she's in the middle of playing with a doll or coloring a picture... and sometimes, after they've both gone to bed and we go in almost – companionable silence to check on them, I'll see a look in his eyes that melts my heart, the loving look of a father. But not always. Not always. Most of the time, he's cold as ice.

It sounds stupid, but I would give anything for just a touch. A reassuring pat on the shoulder when the children have done something to worry me... a brush of the hand that isn't immediately followed by him leaving the room... or, God forbid, perhaps a hug of friendship, a kiss of something else. Just a touch, to let me know that he cares, in whatever way he can. Because that's another thing: physical contact, under any circumstances... terrifies him. He would never say that, never admit it... but I know it does. He doesn't know how to react, doesn't know what to say or do when he is touched. I saw the faraway look in his eyes once, after a delivery, and I reached over, touched his arm, completely out of concern. Immediately, his muscles tensed, his back went straight, and he froze. I swear, neither of us even breathed. I took my hand away only an instant after I had put it there, my eyes stinging as, without another word, Cloud up and left the room. So yes, I know that he doesn't like to be touched. If only...

I wish I knew what to say and how to say it. But the fact of the matter is that I don't, and the reason I am not even trying to make progress with him, is that I am afraid. I love Cloud, yes... but I don't know how to reach him. If only I knew how to reach him, maybe things would be different. Maybe, just maybe, we would be something, would be together, or even just closer... but as it is, things are the same as always... and we are more distant than ever. It's heartbreaking... but it's all I have. Marlene and Denzel are so attached to him... and for their sake, I'm keeping things the way they are. I don't want to risk making them worse. So I'm sticking with it... and praying for a breakthrough, a miracle. Maybe one day...

**Cloud**

Saying that I am a little on the quiet side is... an understatement, to be honest. Actually, I only speak if I have to. It takes too much energy anymore, energy I don't have. Not physical, but emotional.

Emotions. I don't deal with them well – another understatement. Maybe it's because of all I've "been through", as the expression is. Maybe it's because of what I lost the first time I got too attached to someone... and the second... and the third. Maybe – just maybe – I'm afraid of what could happen to those I want to protect if I got too close to them, too. And if I'm afraid, ever, for any reason... then it's got to be a good one.

I'm not saying I'm cursed; I don't believe in curses. When you've seen the things I have and saved the world – twice – you stop believing in omens, fate, destiny. And I don't say that to be arrogant, because of all of the things I am, that's not one of them. But I don't believe that I bring sunshine and butterflies to everyone I come into contact with. Maybe I'm just a little hopeless.

Honestly, who could blame me if I had lost all hope? If I had lost my faith in humanity? Sure, after the geostigma was cured... after Denzel looked at me with those big brown eyes when he was healing miraculously... after I saw Aerith and Zack's ghosts walk away... sure, I felt some hope. I felt like... like everything was actually going to be all right. We won, we fought the bad guys and saved the planet again, and everyone _knew_ that everything was going to be all right. That was a given. But how can I really assure myself that everyone I am personally attached to will be? How can I know, without any doubt, that they aren't going to be in danger because of me? It's happened before... it could happen again... and I don't know if I'm prepared to lose the same things I did then.

Tifa and the kids... they mean a lot to me. I may not be good with emotions... but that doesn't mean I don't feel them. She watches me; I feel it sometimes, when the kids are playing and I'm watching them. I must look like a damned fool, a deliriously happy smile on my face or something, because when I catch her catching me watching them, she smiles a little too. They do make me happy, the three of them. But I don't say it. What could I say? And how? It always comes back to me, being too afraid to get too close... and too afraid to lose them.

I know Teef cares about me, too. Physical contact is another thing I don't really deal with well... and Tifa is one of the only people in a long – _long_ – time to attempt to touch me. I hang my head for a moment. I remember what happened when she did, too. I couldn't handle it – I froze, unprepared for it and not ready to deal with it... and I left the room. It obviously wasn't the warmest of responses, and I know I hurt her... but I couldn't help it. I am too afraid of losing her to let her get lost in me.

Sometimes, when she watches me, the look on her face is... melancholy. I know she wonders. Wonders if I loved the friend we both lost, if I miss her... but she won't ask. I see the question, I know she wants to know the answer. And I don't pretend to know why. I'm not an idiot; I know how it works and I know what she feels. It's not as if she's made it obvious, not by any means, because Lord knows it took me forever to figure it out myself... but I know now, and it's killing me. Were she to ask me, to ask if I loved Aerith... I don't know what I would say. And that's the honest truth – I don't know. Sure, she was wonderful, in her own way... sure, she was beautiful and kind, and hell yeah, it hurt when she died... but did I _love_ her?

Tifa catches me thinking about her, too, which is why I know she wants to know the answer. I can't pretend I don't still think about Aerith and Zack, because they're never far from mind or memory... but I think I've given Teef the completely wrong impression. If I did love Aerith... then, to be quite honest, it was an unexciting sort of feeling. I was attached to her, most definitely – but I would think that love would feel more... intense than that. Like...

Like there's a pull somewhere in my stomach when I see her smile...

Like a moment in time freezes every time I see her walk into a room...

Like I have to swallow and look away whenever her eyes lock onto mine for a mere second because I know I'll blush or smile myself if she keeps them there too long...

I would think that love would feel more like... more like the way that I feel with... Tifa.

Wait a second.

Love... another of those accursed things that I don't deal with well. I mean, Tifa loves me... she wonders if I loved Aerith... and of course, I care a lot about Denzel and Marlene, about Tifa herself... but does that include love?

In the children's case, it's an easy answer. Yeah, I love them. A father's love is easy, natural... it doesn't take so much because I am as certain about it as I am about the fact that the sky is blue. Of course they aren't mine, biologically... but that doesn't mean I'm not their father. That's how they think of me, minus the word 'Dad'. That's how Tifa thinks of me in regards to them; she's used the word before. So, yeah, I do love the children. And as scary as it is to care about them like that, because I am still irrationally afraid of putting them in danger... it's true. Can't change that.

But Tifa... that's a different story. I've never as much as thought about the word 'love' with her. It seems odd, really, because as I'm so quiet, I think a lot, and you'd have thought I'd get around to thinking about her eventually. My stomach clenches in slight shame. If I loved her, I should have been thinking it, thinking about her, before, shouldn't I? Instead of wasting my time brooding over a memory. But no, that's not necessarily true. I can feel it; I do love Tifa... I'm still just not quite healed from the wound of Aerith's death. But then again, it begs the question: did I love Aerith? If I did, how could I love Tifa now?

If I didn't, what the hell have I been waiting for with Tifa?

I lift my head and look around my room. Simple, plain, and comforting, I've been sitting in it for the last couple of hours, just... thinking. I can hear the children and Tifa downstairs; they are playing, she is probably cooking. Such a homemaker, Tifa. And it warms my heart... which has been too cold for too long, I realize. I listen closely to them... to my family... for a few more moments, before I hear the children's little feet patter outside and hear the door slam. Hm. Maybe now... would be the best time for coming clean. Maybe now...

**Tifa**

Cloud has been in his room for some time. I wonder if he's okay. Setting another plate and glass at the small table, I wipe my hands on my apron and glance out the window. The children have gone outside to play for the last few minutes before twilight and dinner, and I quickly take note of where they are before turning in the direction of the stairs, intent on going to see if Cloud is all right, if he is hungry. Somehow, I doubt that he will want to be taken from the sanctity of his silent room, but I push the thought away, simultaneously looking up from the table and toward the landing.

And I am face-to-face with Cloud himself. There is a very odd look in his eyes... one that I can't read, which is not unusual, but one that sets me on edge nonetheless. It's as if he is struggling with words, as if he's pondering something that he can't say. A hard knot forms in my stomach and I, too, am lost for words... because suddenly I realize that this is it. It's now or never. If I don't ask, I'll never know... I open and close my mouth, trying to formulate the words I want to say so badly, but they won't come. And so, I wait.

**Cloud**

I didn't expect her to be speechless, didn't expect to see this look in her eyes that said everything without words. And all of the things I was thinking, all of the things I was so sure I could say now... they disappeared. So we are standing between the dining room and the stairs, staring at each other, the things we aren't saying hanging in the air like a fog.

Again, the pull in my stomach, the flutter of my heartbeat, the whirl of my thoughts when she is near. Finally, after long moments of just silence, I can find my voice. "Hi," I say, and as soon as the word is out, I regret it, for my voice is hoarse, and the word is no more engaging than if I had simply grunted at her. What is wrong with me?

**Tifa**

"Hey," I say back, hoping my face doesn't fall in disappointment. The things I wanted to say...? Gone. "Are you, um... are you hungry, Cloud?" I ask, retreating a step and simultaneously retreating back to my homemaker ways. My face feels hot and I know I am blushing, but in light of the fact that his eyes still have not left mine, I do not look away.

He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, the light golden spikes of hair just barely moving side-to-side. "No," comes his low rumble of a voice... and something in it makes my breath hitch. What is he thinking? I wonder, desperately searching his mako blue eyes for something, anything to tell me what that is. I search for so long that I don't notice when he moves closer to me by two or three steps, and, when I do, I nearly gasp from the shock. He is standing very close now; my face is but inches from his chest and I am still staring up at him. This is a huge step in and of itself; he is never closer to me than a foot or so. Something is wrong tonight; something is going to happen, and I can feel it.

**Cloud**

For more than one moment, I doubt myself. I doubt that I am right in moving closer to her, doubt that I am sane in believing that no harm could ever come to them again, doubt everything that I was thinking up in my own room. I even doubt the fact that she loves me. But I can't help moving closer to her, and I can't help the way my hand raises of its own accord to brush a smudge of flour off of her cheek, then make its way to her neck, down her shoulder, and finally, to grasp her hand in my own. The action shocks her; I see in her eyes that she was not expecting that at all. But she does not move away. Honestly, it even shocks me; again, I don't deal well with physical contact, and for _me_ to be this close to her... it was a breakthrough.

For a long moment, we stand there like that, me holding her hand in mine, marveling at its warmth and delicacy. She does not pull away; rather, she laces her fingers with mine, a new sort of look in her eyes... one that makes me aware of just how much I love her. A part of me wonders, 'Now what?'... but another part of me already knows.

**Tifa**

I can't breathe. I feel like asking Cloud what the hell is wrong with him, why is he acting so strange... because this, being so near, holding my hand... is certainly not normal. I can't even remember the last time we so much as hugged, as childhood friends. I can't move, can't speak, and there are a myriad of questions bombarding my mind... but they won't form themselves. It's as if being in close proximity with the golden spikes of his hair, crystalline blue eyes that I rarely saw before but are now locked to mine, and lean muscles that are so Cloud has temporarily paralyzed me. I feel the urge to ask him what's going on, yes... but somehow, in some deep part of my soul, I already know what is happening.

If you have never kissed the man of your dreams (or, woman, I suppose), then you cannot possibly even begin to guess what it feels like. I could see Cloud's neck bend, could see the sudden, dawning intensity in the eyes I so love, and still, I doubted whether this was real. I could feel his lips brush mine, once, softly, a pure and sweet kiss that broke a barrier as soon as it was sealed... and still, I wondered if it was actually happening in the moment that it did. And when he pulled barely an inch away, and I could see in that moment everything lurking in his heart, soul, when he still stared down at me and I could see the thick wall of defense that he'd built after years fall away, when I saw nothing but raw emotion in his eyes and felt him grip me just a tiny, immeasurable amount tighter... I don't think I have ever loved someone or something or a moment in time that much. It had not been me, but Cloud's silence, his fear of physical contact, his refusal to feel emotion, and most importantly, the belief that if he didn't go it alone, he would lose everything again... had all been broken.

**Cloud**

To be quite honest, I don't really know what I'm doing. Sure, I can kiss; that's an instinct, a knowledge that everyone is born with, an ability that everyone has after a bit of practice. But kissing Tifa... I've never felt more... alive. It sounds cheesy, I know; the "undying love" thing isn't really my speed. For God's sake, I only just realized I love Teef; it's taken years for myself to even think about touching on that emotion – and while it's incredible and everything, it's scary as hell. But judging by how wonderfully alive I feel... how I can hear my own heartbeat, pounding in my ears... how I can feel my chest constricting almost painfully with every breath... how I can feel my blood, rushing in my veins fast and hot... it's right. So I lean in the mere inch I pulled away, and kiss her again, realizing that there is nothing I would rather be doing than kissing Tifa.

It's as if a dam has broken in my body somewhere, as if the floods of pent-up emotion I refused to feel before have been released and they are spilling and tumbling out as I am kissing her. I am not aware of my own movements anymore, urgency to make up for all of the time lost and a passion I certainly did not know before burning through me. I pull her closer, so that she is leaning against my chest, my hands going to her face, beneath her silky hair, pulling her chin up so that I can kiss her senseless. I don't think anymore, I merely act, kissing her until I am out of breath, until I know I will have to pull away before the children come in and before I will have to explain myself.

**Tifa**

To say that I never expected that Cloud would make a breakthrough is a lie. I knew somewhere in my gut that one day, he would see, and with oh-so-Cloud-like intensity, something like this would happen. Now I realize that I knew it all along. So yes, I expected his intensity, because everything Cloud is is intense. Even if he has built up the emotions of years, not allowing them to come to the surface, and even if he doesn't normally allow himself to smile, laugh, cry... I know that he is an intense being, that he feels and lives and acts with a passion that was bound to come out one day. Whether his reaction would have been good or bad upon realizing it, I know that the moment would have been profound. And, true to that, the intensity of this moment, the way he is kissing me and the raw passion that emanates from him to me is everything I had always hoped it would be and more. (Not to mention, and I have to say, that Cloud is one _hell_ of a kisser.)

Finally, he pulls away, and this is the part I did not ever expect: the way he is looking at me. We are both out of breath, and his hands, warm, calloused, but wonderfully comforting, are still on my neck, his body still very close to mine. His lips are parted, a bit fuller than before from the kissing, and I bite the corner of mine while I try to think of something to say, knowing that mine are plump, too. But the way he is looking at me... almost brings tears to my eyes. The eyes I never usually see, the ones that are carefully concealed by golden spikes of hair and by layers and layers of protective covering over his emotions... are open, beautiful, and above all, loving. They are locked onto mine, they are burning for me with a passion I didn't really know he possessed – and a love. And suddenly, that just seems the right thing to say – the _only_ thing to say.

"I love you, Cloud," I whisper, and scarlet flags of color stain my cheeks, both because of the words and the fact that my voice cracks when saying it. But I do not look away from him, and he does not look away from me, and the fact that he has finally – _finally_ – heard it, literally lifts weight off of my shoulders. And I wait, breathlessly, for a response, any response.

**Cloud**

It seems like hours, days, before I can find my voice to respond, and I feel heat rise up my own face when my voice is choked with emotion. "Tifa," I finally manage to choke out, but the declaration is never finished.

I didn't know how silent it was until the front door slammed open and Denzel and Marlene came rushing in noisily, ready for dinner. Instantly, Tifa and I spring apart, both of us jumping miles in the air and turning to face the children, the only remnants of what just happened the taste of her on my lips, the subtle look in her eyes that says more than all of the books in the world. As the kids clatter around the table, busying themselves with taking out napkins and forks and waiting expectantly for Tifa to bring out the food, I look at her again.

"You know... Teef," I say, feeling a smile make its way from somewhere in my stomach to my face, "I think... I think I am hungry."

She smiles at me radiantly, and we both know exactly what I mean. I sit in a chair at the table, feeling myself smile even wider now, and after a few moments, Tifa retreats into the kitchen to get our dinner... which the four of us ravenously devoured.

**A/N:** Please review! Please please please! Use the little 'go' button! Tell me what you thought, even if you hated it and thought it was one huge angst-y/fluffy nonsensical fic! Lol. Thanks.


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